It'll Be Okay, Sammy
by The Angel Called Castiel
Summary: Dean is grieving and wrapped up in revenge after Bobby's death. He doesn't notice Sam's health deteriorating and things don't go well. COMPLETED (finally!)
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Dean is grieving and wrapped up in revenge after Bobby's death. He doesn't notice Sam's health deteriorating and well, things don't go well.

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything or the Supernatural characters.**

 **This is my first fanfiction ever so please be kind and review!**

Chapter One

Dean slammed the shot glass on the table.

"Honey, can I get another one of these?" he slurred to the bartender. She nodded, turning around to pour another shot of whiskey. She walked over to his table, setting down his glass. Her long brown hair fell over her shoulder. "Thanks," Dean said, turning his head back to his poker game. He smirked, knowing he had won the game.

"What the hell?" the man across the table yelled. "You cheated!"

"Hey, hey, hey," Dean said. "I won fair and square! Give me those 100 dollars."

"Like hell you did!" the man's face was turning bright red.

Dean quickly got annoyed. He grabbed the man's shirt roughly and held him close to his face. "Give me the money, Felix!" Dean said darkly.

"Never!" Felix spat. Dean punched him four times in the face and threw him over the table. Quickly, he downed his glass then took the man's wallet and bolted out the door.

Sam was back at the motel doing some research. There wasn't much to do; not since Bobby was shot by Dick Roman and died. Sam knew that Dean was grieving and out for revenge. Bobby was like a second father to them. Dean's been disappearing for long periods of time, leaving Sam all alone in the motel or waiting in the Impala for hours.

 _God knows where Dean is now,_ Sam thought, leaning back in his creaking chair. A sharp pain in his chest almost made him fall out of his chair. He has been having this weird thing happen for the past week. Sam didn't think much of it; but it has been happening ever since then and been getting worse. _Maybe I should go to the clinic downt-_

SLAM! Dean barged into the motel room, stumbling and fell into the chair next to the bed. "Dean!" Sam said. "Where the hell were you, man?"

"Away from you," Dean mumbled.

"Dean, you've got to stop doing this to yourself. I know that you're not exactly at your best moments now, and I'd hate to bring him up, but don't you think that we should start working again? You know, on what happened to Bobby?"

"Get off my back Sam!" Dean shouted. "Leave me alone!"

"Woah woah okay man," Sam said, shocked at how Dean reacted. Quickly, he left the motel room and went outside for some fresh air. As he stood outside the motel, he thought about what he could do. They've been idling for days, even weeks. He tried to get Dean to work on Dick Roman, but all Dean did was swear at him and leave to drown himself in alcohol.

 _Stab!_ Another jab in the chest made him grunt in pain. Sam thought about approaching Dean about it, but that didn't really seem like a good option right now. He would drive himself to the clinic downtown, but Dean always took the Impala and he would have to ask Dean to drive him there. Sam put the subject in the back of his mind and went back in.

When Sam opened the door, he spotted Dean on the bed, sleeping. Sam looked around for the Impala keys. Not finding them, he assumed that they were in Dean's pockets. He decided not to risk it by waking Dean up, and he went back outside for a walk.

 **TBC**

 **I'll try to update by next week! I hope you liked it so far! Sorry that it is really short; future chapters will be longer and more exciting things will happen next!**

 ** _~Catherine the Superwholockian_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything or the Supernatural characters.**

 **Thanks for such positive feedback! It made my day ^^ Side note: I'm typing on my slightly broken computer :/ It's a bit difficult, but I can manage! I'll get it fixed soon!**

Chapter Two

Sam walked on the sidewalk, along the perimeter of the tiny motel. The dark night sky twinkled with tiny stars. Harsh winds blew against him, making him shiver.

Suddenly, Sam felt a tightening sensation in his chest. He couldn't breathe and he gasped for air, feeling like he was being suffocated. Sam coughed and he started to panic. His body shook, trying to take in oxygen. After what seemed like an eternity, the choking feeling subsided. Standing there with his hands on his knees, back bended over, his mind was racing. _What the heck was that?_ Sam thought. _I really have to tell Dean about this._

The sound of the doorknob turning directed Dean's attention to Sam, who walked through the door looking like a ghost. His face was extremely pale and he looked nervous.

"Dean, I need to tell you something." Sam said, looking stressed.

"What?" Dean mumbled, his brain not really registering what Sam said.

"I think something's wrong with me," Sam said. "I'm not feeling that good."

"Stop being a wuss, Sam. It's probably just a cold. Suck it up!" Dean snapped.

"But Dean-" Sam tried to tell him that it wasn't any cold, but something more serious.

"Didn't you say that we should be working on the Leviathans? So stop acting like a bitch and start working!" Dean said, angrily.

Defeated, Sam gave up on getting Dean to understand and sulked off.

 **The next morning…**

Sam woke up to the shuffling sound of footsteps and the slamming of a door. He sat up quickly and looked around. Dean's bed was a mess, the credit card and gun they kept on the drawer was gone, and so was Dean. Sam assumed that Dean was off at another bar or doing some work on the Leviathans without him. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed when, without warning, his throat tightened and he started coughing. He felt like his body was hacking his guts out…through his mouth. He tried to stand up, but his legs collapsed. Dragging himself over to the bathroom, Sam coughed into the sink. After the coughing had settled down, he glanced at his face in the mirror. His skin was extremely pale and his hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead. Sam looked down into the sink and he was shocked by what he saw.

Tiny specks of blood decorated the sink like glitter. The dark rich red color made him dizzy. Sam was really worried now. He turned on the water and rinsed the blood away. He splashed his face with cold water and dried it off with a towel. _Maybe it's not that bad,_ Sam thought. He tried listing his symptoms. _Chest pain, coughing up blood, shortness of breath, and-_ His train of thought was broken off when he heard the distant sound of his phone ringing. He stumbled over a lamp's electrical cord as he reached for his phone. Dean's name was the caller ID. After a second of hesitation, Sam picked up the call.

"Hey Dean, where are you?" Sam said, unsure of what mood Dean was in.

"I'm trying to figure out what the numbers mean. Any guesses? There are six numbers; 454895." Dean said. His voice was strangely neutral.

"Um, let me think about that and I'll get back to you." Sam said, while writing down the numbers on a notepad. "Dean? You know about that cold we talked about yesterday? Well, I don't think it's a cold."

"Did you take your temperature? There's a thermometer in the first aid kit in the duffel bag under the bed." Dean said, with a bit of annoyance and impatience in his words.

"..Not yet," Sam said, feeling stupid. _Why didn't I think of that earlier?_ Sam thought. "Okay, thanks then. I'll call if I figure anything out on the numbers."

Sam put down his phone and looked under the bed. Sure enough, there was a dark duffel bag underneath the bed. Kneeling down, he pulled it out and unzipped the bag. The contents of the bag were not at all organized and he couldn't find the thermometer. After a long while of sorting out the supplies, Sam came across the thermometer. He stood up and walked into the bathroom to rinse it off first. After cleaning it (because who knows what happened to it), he stuck it under his tongue and waited. He removed the thermometer and it read: 103.7 degrees. He had a really bad fever! Sam went back to the duffel bag and pulled out some Tylenol. He swallowed one of the pills and sat down to think about the six numbers that Bobby gave to them right before he died. Coordinates maybe? A security code?

Suddenly, he felt lightheaded and the room started to spin. The light coming through the window blinds made his head hurt. Sam held his head between his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. It felt like someone was smashing his brain with a sledgehammer. He could hear his heart beat in his ears, beating rapidly. Without warning, the chest pain came back. It was like someone placed 60 pounds of cement on top of him. The pain was too much and he lost consciousness. The last thing he remembered was the unbearable pressure in his chest.

 **TBC**

 **Since today was a no school day, I decided to work on the new chapter, so here you go! Please leave a review on what you thought about it and the next chapter will be up soon! Also, tell me about any spelling or grammar mistakes I made and I'll fix them!**

 ** _~Catherine the Superwholockian_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything or the Supernatural characters.**

 **All you wonderful followers, reviewers, favorite-ing (this isn't a word so my spell-check is yelling at me) people, and those who just read it, make me very happy when I get the notification! I'm trying to update quickly, but school is actually starting to become school (just started getting homework and quizzes). Also, my pet bird just died this week :(** **So I don't know if I'll be able to update as often as I can now; I'll try though!**

Chapter Three

Dean sat at the bar, tapping his fingers against the hard wood counter. He nodded to the bartender nearby, signaling to his empty shot glass. Immediately understanding, the bartender walked over and refilled his glass.

"Thanks." Dean said simply. Sam hadn't called back in 3 hours; has Sam not thought of any ideas on what the numbers meant? Not even one? He scoffed internally. Of course, Sam was a lazy ass and probably was doing who knows what, while Dean was ripping his brain out thinking about the numbers.

"What the hell is he doing?!" Dean whispered to himself. Getting out of his seat (without paying of course), he stormed out the door and into his car. He jumped into the Impala and started the engine. He drove away to the motel.

 **Meanwhile…**

Sam woke to the sound of an extremely loud motorcycle speeding down the street. He groaned in pain; the headache had not gone away when he passed out. The constant pressure in his chest was still there. Sam just wanted to curl up into a ball and hide in a dark, dark corner. Clenching his teeth together, he hissed in pain. He was very lightheaded and almost fell as he tried to get up. Sam was about to call Dean for help, when he remembered the day before. _'Stop being a wuss!' 'Suck it up!' 'Stop acting like a bitch and start working!'_ The harsh words did nothing to help his condition and he started coughing again. Blood droplets fell onto the carpet, but disappeared into the unattractive patterned carpet. Sam shuddered, his whole being feeling weak and exhausted. His breaths were shallow and loud. Forcing himself to get up, he grabbed a water bottle from the table and gulped it down. The water didn't do much, but the cold liquid soothed his aching throat.

Sam walked over to the bathroom to access his condition. He looked worse than yesterday! His skin felt clammy and cold, even though he was burning inside. His forehead was on fire though. After splashing some water onto his face to cool himself down, he grabbed the thermometer and took his temperature again. He glanced at the tiny screen. 103.9 degrees! It had risen, but not a lot. Sam left the bathroom and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the clock. 2 pm! He had been passed out for three hours! Suddenly, Sam heard a knock on the door.

Dean knocked on the motel door. No response. Another two knocks, a bit louder this time. Dean could hear the sound of footsteps and the door opened a crack. Sam peered out of the crack, like a kid hiding behind their parent.

Sam opened the door, letting Dean in. Dean glanced at him and Sam looked bad. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was a mess.

"Sam! What the hell? What have you been doing this whole time?! Did you figure anything out?" Dean said, angrily.

"I thought of a few things." Sam said, quietly.

"Like….." Dean said.

"Um…well, a security code to something, like a building, coordinates, um…" Sam dragged out his sentence, not knowing what to say.

"What did you do with the rest of the, like, two hours?" Dean said, mad that Sam was slacking off.

"I feel really sick, Dean. I'm coughing a lot, I've got a fever, and my-" Sam tried to tell Dean about what had happened, but Dean interrupted him.

"Just tough it out! This is getting really annoying now! It's just a simple cold or something!" Dean shouted. _Why am I always responsible for him? Don't I get a break?_ Dean thought.

"Um, ok." Sam said. He was shot down by Dean every time he attempted to tell him about his serious illness that was not getting better. He was about to ask about dinner, but his stomach flipped at the thought of food. "Did you have dinner already?"

"Yeah," Dean said, not even looking at Sam. Dean sat down in the wooden chair and pulled it up to the table. He grabbed a beer that he got earlier from the store and popped it open. "What about you?"

"Yeah, I went to the nearby restaurant," Sam lied. He hadn't eaten anything for a while; when he thought about food, his stomach refused. If he tried to eat something, he was sure he would throw it all up. "I'm gonna go outside for some fresh air." Sam said, as he opened the motel door and walked outside.

It was somewhat cold, maybe like 60 degrees (F). He zipped his jacket up and shoved his hands into his pockets. Sam started to cough, and he was nervous that Dean would hear him. Holding his breath and cough, he swiftly moved far away from the motel room and speed-walked to the other side of the building. Letting go, he exhaled and Sam could feel his cough creep back into his throat. He started to cough again; this time, he felt something in his mouth and quickly ran to a grassy place. There, he splashed the dark bushes with bloody mucus. Luckily, no one was around to see him. Sam wiped his mouth with his jacket sleeve. _At least I didn't cough onto someone's car,_ Sam thought, trying to be positive. However, being positive wasn't one of his priorities right now.

Sam decided to go back to the motel room since it was getting colder. While he was finding his way back, he felt a pain in his leg. It felt sore and like he had run too much. _I probably hit it on a wall corner,_ Sam thought. He brushed it off as nothing.

He got back to the motel room minutes later. Sam pulled the door open, bringing in the cold air. "Hey Dean, I'm back." Sam said. Dean was passed out in the chair. His empty beer bottle was still on the table, and papers were scattered around everywhere. Sam leaned down to pick up one of the stray papers on the ground. As he bended over, he felt the familiar pain in his chest. It was like he was having a heart attack. Sam told himself to work through the pain and stood up slowly. He staggered over to the edge of the bed. Sam took a look at the paper. It was a list of the six numbers in mixed up combinations, with dashes and commas in different spots. It seemed like Dean had done lots of research himself.

Sam's throat tightened. He couldn't breathe! The feeling of not being able to breathe scared him. Invisible hands wrapped around his throat in a choke hold. It passed shortly, and Sam could breathe normally. He wasn't able to inhale as deep, but at least he could breathe.

Sam glanced at Dean, who was still passed out on the bed. Sam decided to go to sleep and he flipped the light switch off. Taking his temperature once again, the thermometer read: 104.1! After swallowing another Tylenol pill, he crawled into bed and tried to fall asleep. He could hear crickets outside and Dean's heavy breathing. Sam drifted off into the darkness and all he could hear was his own heart beating.

 **TBC**

 **Well, that took a while. Sorry if it's not as good as the other chapters. I'm trying to figure out things in the story and some mistakes might have wormed their way in. Alert me about them, and I'll fix it! Thanks for reading and the next chapter will be up by next week!**

 ** _~Catherine the Superwholockian_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything or the Supernatural characters.**

 **Woohoo another chapter! Sorry for any incorrect medical facts; I'm not a doctor. This chapter is long overdue. So sorry! I've been really busy this week and this chapter is very hmmm…. exciting. Not much more to say here…..I'll start writing now…**

Chapter Four

Dean woke up to the sound of someone yelling in the room next to theirs. He groaned; his head hurt and it was hard to open his eyes fully. He forced himself to roll out of bed and walked to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and taking a quick shower, he was ready to go. Sam was still sleeping; he was curled up in a ball, his back turned to Dean.

"Sam! Get the hell up! We have things to do!" Dean yelled. Sam rolled over onto his back, not really waking up.

"SAM!" Dean shouted, getting irritated.

"What?" Sam whined. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes. Sam saw Dean standing at the edge of his bed, looking annoyed.

"C'mon, I found a job for us to do." Dean said impatiently.

"What are we hunting now? I thought we were working on the Leviathan thing," Sam said. He was exhausted and didn't know if he was up for hunting.

"Yeah, but we're not getting anywhere. Some people have gone missing, and there are dead bodies too. I saw it in the newspaper and visited the morgue. Seems like a wendigo to me," Dean told him. "It'll be a quick one. I have the torches ready in the car."

"OK, I'll be ready in 5," Sam said. "Can you go get breakfast?"

"OK, sure." Dean said. He opened the door and walked out. Sam got out of bed and grabbed a water bottle from the table. He gulped down half the bottle in less than 10 seconds. Sam took another look in the mirror to assess his condition. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his dark circles were worse than yesterday; if that was possible. He took a cold shower to get rid of the sweat. He dried off and got all his stuff together. Sam plopped down in a chair, waiting for Dean to get back with some food.

Sam felt more chest pains and the inside of his throat was itchy. He just wanted to scratch through the skin on his neck. He involuntarily started coughing into his elbow to relieve the itching. After five minutes of horrible coughing, it stopped enough for him to get water. Extending his arm as far as he could, he stood and reached for the bottle of water on the table. Suddenly, he was hit with a wave of dizziness and he stumbled. Sam caught his foot on one of the chair legs and went tumbling to the ground. On the way, he also managed to hit his head on the corner of the table. Groaning, he curled up on the floor and held his head. Everything around him was blurry and the spot where he hit his head felt like someone shot him.

Then, Sam heard the car engine outside. He could tell that it was Dean and he got up as quickly as he could, in his condition. Looking down at himself, he noticed the blood-streaked sputum on the inside of his elbow. He grabbed his jacket hanging on the chair and put it on to hide the blood. _I'll wash it off later. I can't let Dean see it,_ Sam thought.

The door swung open and Dean walked through, holding plastic bags containing food.

"I got some breakfast sandwiches at the restaurant." Dean said, tossing it to him. Sam caught it, right before it hit him in the face.

"Slow reaction there, Sam. You okay?" Dean asked. _He looks really sick,_ Dean thought. _Maybe something is wrong._

"Huh? Oh, oh yeah. I'm fine!" Sam said, trying to hide it from Dean. Dean looked like he didn't believe him, but he changed the subject before anything else could be said.  
"So, where's the wendigo?" Sam asked.

"In the state woods. A lot of people go camping there. It's not that far; a few miles maybe." Dean said.

"OK then. Let's go," Sam said, getting up from his chair.

"Don't you want to eat first or something?" Dean questioned.

"Um, I'll just eat later. I'm not that hungry right now." Sam lied. His mind was screaming for nourishment but his stomach didn't agree with that idea. Dean gave a look that said, _I can tell you're lying but I'm not going to mention it because it seems like you might throw up on me._ Dean picked up the bags on the table and they both left the room.

 **In the car…**

AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" was playing at full blast as the Impala sped down the road. Sam leaned against the window, resting his forehead against the cool glass. A headache was eating away at his mind and he tried to focus and relax. Dean glanced at him and Sam wasn't looking too good. Dean could hear Sam's shallow breaths and he was concerned. Dean spotted the state woods sign in the corner of his eyes and took a right onto a dirt road. It was super bumpy and the bumps shook Sam out of his daze.

"What? Are we there yet?" Sam said, coming out of his confused state.

"We're here," Dean said, pulling up to the ranger's payment desk. He rolled down the window and showed the ranger his fake badge. The ranger nodded and let them through. Dean took a look at the map nailed to a tree. Peering at the map inside the car, he followed the route to the west side of the woods. He passed a lot of people who were camping or hiking. Once they got to the site, they could see evidence of a wendigo's presence. There were claw marks on the trees and tons of broken branches had fallen to the ground.

Dean stopped the car a few hundred yards away. He opened the door and stepped out.

"C'mon, Sam!" Dean yelled. He saw Sam step out unsteadily from the car. Dean walked to the front of the car and opened the hood. He grabbed the torches, flashlights, and a couple guns.

"Sam!" Dean said, trying to get Sam's attention. Sam spun around just in time to catch one of the torches. Dean looked at him strangely. It was like he was a lagging computer.

"Are you okay, Sam?" Dean asked, concerned.

"What? Yes, I'm okay. Feeling a bit under weather but yea, I'm okay." Sam said. _If I complain, he's going to think I'm weak and childish. I can't act like I'm sick; I have to look normal._ Dean nodded, and turned back to the site. Dean motioned to him and they both crept towards the clawed trees. Behind clumps of trees, there was a dark gaping 8 foot wide hole in the ground. Near the entrance of the hole, they could see nothing; just the endless darkness.

"You think it's in there?" Sam asked. Sam was fighting the need to cough and pass out. He could barely stand and it took all of his effort to stay up.

"Yeah. Apparently, all the people that camped here have disappeared. I'm guessing this is where the wendigo hangs out." Dean said, handing him a handgun and a flashlight. "C'mon, jump in."

Sam turned his flashlight on. The tiny beam of light did nothing to illuminate the dark hole. There was a long tunnel ahead of them and they couldn't see anything.

"Dean! Where are you?" Sam shouted.

"Right here," a voice behind him said. Sam spun around, surprised. However, he wasn't exactly at peak agility and he almost toppled over, into Dean.

"Woah! Are you sure you're fine?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go," Sam insisted. Dean didn't say anything else and Sam continued ahead. Dean followed.

Then, Sam heard footsteps. He stopped walking and his senses heightened.

"Did you hear that?" Sam said. He thought he heard someone, or something, lurking just a few yards from them.

"What? I don't hear anything." Dean said, confused.

"I thought I heard footsteps." Sam said. "I don't know… I'm pretty sure I heard something though." Sam got his torch ready and his gun in the other hand.

"Really? I didn't hear a thing." Dean said. "You're probably a little delirious."

"I'm positive I heard something, Dean." Sam insisted. _Why won't he believe me?_

"C'mon, start walking," Dean said. "The wendigo's not going to be this close to the entrance."

Reluctantly, Sam started walking again. Suddenly, something lashed out at him. He was struck in the head and flew into the hard wall of the tunnel.

"SAM!" Dean yelled. He turned and saw the looming dark figure that resembled a wendigo. Acting quickly, Dean grabbed his gun and shot at it. The bullet did nothing but irritate the creature. The wendigo latched on to Dean and flung him into the wall next to Sam. Dean hit his back and he fell onto the ground face first. He groaned and lifted himself up. He looked over to Sam and immediately he was worried. Blood was coming from his head and his arm was bent at an awkward angle. Dean didn't have time to help Sam, as the creature's claws dug and ripped into his leg. Dean screamed as the pain felt like his leg was set on fire.

Sam's head hurt. He could hear growling and then, Dean screaming. Shaking himself out of unconsciousness, he attempted to sit up. He was stopped by a fit of coughs and the chest pains were back to taunt him. Dean's screams hadn't stopped and Sam couldn't handle the sound of Dean in pain. Using his arms to pull himself closer to Dean, he grabbed one of the torches. Putting himself in between the wendigo and Dean, he used himself to shield Dean from the creature's attacks. Sam could feel the claws rip cuts into his arms and chest. Blood flowed down his chest and the warm liquid made him dizzy. Sam lifted the torch and with the last amount of energy he had left, he lifted the lever and fire exploded from it. The wendigo howled as it was engulfed in flames. It screamed as it burned alive and was reduced to a pile of ash. Sam collapsed onto Dean and passed out.

All Dean could hear was the wendigo yelling and something fell on top of him. Looking down, he saw Sam's long brown hair and jumped into action. He pulled himself from underneath Sam and immediately tried to stop the bleeding. Sam was bleeding from his chest and his shirt was shredded beyond recognition. Dean felt for Sam's pulse and there was a faint pulse that was slowing down with every passing second. Sam's breaths were shallow and no matter how hard Dean shook him, Sam showed no signs of waking up. Dean's eyes filled with tears.

"SAMMY!"

 **TBC**

 **I'm SO sorry! This chapter is late and I have no excuse except that I didn't know what to write. I hope you liked this chapter and leave a review! Tell me about any parts I could fix, and thanks for reading!**

 ** _~Catherine the Superwholockian_**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything or the Supernatural characters.**

 **So….I left a cliffhanger for you guys ^^' Please don't kill me. I AM VERY SORRY THAT I DIDN'T UPDATE AS PLANNED I'M SO SORRY. Dean might be a bit OOC, so for that I am sorry. I'm not a doctor or anything, so I apologize in advance for any inaccurate medical facts. Woohooooooo**

Chapter Five

"SAM!" Dean screamed. He was leaning against Sam's chest wounds, but blood kept pumping from underneath his hands. He was starting to panic. _Okay, Dean. You got to focus. If you start panicking, Sam's gonna die._

Dean ripped off his jacket and wrapped it around Sam's chest as best as he could. He jumped up and tried to find a way to climb back up; while carrying Sam. He felt around the wall of the hole and found some ledges he could step on and hold. Turning back to Sam, he put his arms under Sam and attempted to lift him onto his back. Sam moaned in pain and Dean cringed. It was going to be hard to move Sam without causing discomfort.

"Sorry Sammy," Dean whispered. "We've got to get out of here." Dean lifted Sam onto his back and started to climb out of the hole. Using one foot to step onto a ledge, he held Sam's arms around his shoulders as he used his other hand to move himself up. Sam was pretty heavy and it wasn't making it easy for Dean to get him out. Grunting, Dean got one arm over the edge of the hole and exhaled deeply. Dean groaned and pulled himself, and Sam, out of the hole. He was bended over the edge and was halfway out.

"You owe me one, Sammy." Dean said, to nobody in particular. He kicked his legs and pushed himself forward. He sighed deeply. Dean was all the way out of the hole and lying down on the dirt. Sam was on top of him, still unconscious.

"Gah!" Dean hissed. He pushed Sam off of him, gently. Fumbling for his phone, he dug through his pockets looking for it. Dean found nothing. He peered into the hole in the ground. A cracked phone with shattered glass all around it lay at the bottom. Panicking, Dean lifted Sam from the ground and ran to the car with Sam in his arms. The flow of blood had slowed down, but the bleeding hadn't stopped. He opened the car door and put Sam in the back. Dean slammed the door and quickly moved to the driver seat. His left leg hurt like hell but it didn't matter to him right now.

Dean shoved the key in the ignition and drove off.

 **While driving….**

"C'mon!" Dean said. He was way over the speed limit, but honestly, he didn't care. The nearest hospital was 40 miles away. Dean wasn't sure if Sam could last that long. _No, no, no. Don't think about that. Just keep driving._

Dean pulled up to the hospital. It was late afternoon and getting dark. Dean scrambled out of the front seat and opened the back door to pull Sam out onto his back. He raced towards the emergency room and slammed through the doors.

"HE NEEDS HELP! SOMEONE HELP HIM!" Dean yelled. With each passing second, Sam seemed to be getting paler and his breaths were shallow; practically nonexistent. Dean ran up to the desk and demanded a doctor.

"HE NEEDS A DOCTOR! GET HIM A DAMN DOCTOR!" Dean shouted. The nurse behind the desk stood up.

"Please calm down, sir. We will get a doctor for him immediately." She said. Someone rolled out a gurney from the emergency room and there were swarms of people dressed in hospital uniform. People were yelling out things to each other and bringing out supplies. Someone came over and took Sam from Dean's arms. They placed him on the gurney and put an oxygen mask on Sam. An IV was put into Sam's arm. Everything was happening so quickly. Dean couldn't think clearly and his vision started to blur. The last thing he heard was, "Sir? Are you okay? Hey! Hey! We need help here! Get him a doctor!"

Dean woke up in a hospital bed. The smell of disinfectant and alcohol was everywhere. Dean looked around. Everything was clean white; the walls were white and the sheets on the bed were white, too. His leg was raised and covered in bandages. A woman with a brown ponytail walked in, holding a clipboard.

"Hello Dean. Good, you're awake. I'm your doctor, my name is Doctor Collins. It seems like you've been through a lot. Your leg has been severely injured, but luckily, we stitched it up and you should recover pretty easily. We got your information from you earlier. You were kind of out of it, so I don't know if you remember that. " The doctor said. "So, any questions about anything?" she asked.

"Where's Sammy? Where's my brother?" Dean said. His throat was scratchy and he couldn't speak right. He could remember Sam bleeding into the sheets on the gurney and someone pushing the gurney away. Dean couldn't remember anything after that; everything had gone dark. Right now, his only concern was his little brother.

"The other man that came in with you? Well, he's in another room at the moment," the doctor said. Dean could tell she was holding something back; something she wasn't telling him.

"What happened to him?" Dean shouted. All he could imagine was Sam lying in a morgue. "What in the hell is going on?"

"He's in critical condition right now. Sam came in seriously dehydrated and with a high fever. He had many deep gashes in his chest, which was very hard to take care of. We found out he has an underlying condition and we have diagnosed him with pulmonary embolism." The doctor said, looking at her clipboard.

"Wait, what?" Dean said. _Pulmonary embolism? What the f- oh. Oh. Nonononononono._

"Is he okay? How is he?"

"For now, Sam's stable. However, we still have to watch him to make sure that he stays like that." she mentioned.

"Can I see him?" Dean asked.

"No visitors are allowed to see him, albeit I could make an exception." She smiled at him.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. I feel fine." Dean said. Doctor Collins unstrapped his leg from the lifted position. He started to sit up and get out of bed, when he stumbled.

"Woah! Are you sure you're ready to get out of bed?" she rushed over to him. "Here, you can use a wheelchair if you want." Dean didn't want to use a wheelchair, but he had to admit that he really couldn't do much without some help. She pulled a wheelchair over from the corner of the room. He reluctantly sat down it and mumbled, "Thanks."

"It's my job," she said. Dean snorted and she wheeled him out of the hospital room.

They arrived at the ICU recovery wing. There were mobs of nurses racing down the corridor with gurneys and IVs. Doctor Collins had to move Dean over into a small hallway to wait for the pandemonium to end. After the initial rush of chaos ended, they found their way to a room at the end of the hall. She knocked on the door.

"Sam?" she called. "Your brother and I are coming in, OK?" The doctor let go of the chair and opened the door. She pushed Dean over to the side of the bed. Dean inhaled sharply. Sam was lying so still. His skin was a pale grey; he looked like he was dead. The only sign of life was the barely visible rise of his chest and the beep of the heart monitor. There were tubes going in and out of him. A ventilator covered his mouth. Dean let out a shaky breath.

"I'll leave you guys alone now. If you need anything, just press the call button." She said. The doctor gave a little wave and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Dean took a deep breath. His eyes were watering and things were blurry.

"Sam," Dean started to say. His voice cracked and a tear ran down his face.

"I'm so sorry."

 **TBC**

 **I finally stopped procrastinating and got this done. I don't have an excuse for why this was posted so late. I hope you liked it! I'll try to update the next chapter on time!**

 ** _~Catherine the Superwholockian_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything or the Supernatural characters.**

 **Hi! Apologies for the short chapter. OK, I said that I would update on time, but honestly, I'm starting to lose interest in this story. This story will be ending soon** **L** **. If you like my writing (lol not expecting anyone to) I will be writing more stories.**

Chapter Six

 _It's my fault. If only I had noticed. If only I had realized that something was wrong._

Dean sat in his wheelchair at the edge of Sam's hospital bed. He felt like shit. Dark circles surrounded his eyes like a devil's trap. His leg still hurt, even though he was on loads of pain killers. Sam was pretty much dead to the world, and Dean couldn't stand to see him like that.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean said. "You know I hate chick-flick moments." He let out a humorless laugh. Sam showed no sign of waking up.

"Sammy, I've been such a jerk. I ignored you when you tried to tell me about this. If only I had listened, we wouldn't be here now. This is on me," Dean whispered. He lifted his head up and stared at Sam.

"OK then," Dean said. He started to roll his wheelchair out of the room, when he heard something.

"Dean?" a weak tiny voice called out to him. Dean turned around quickly. Sam was rolled over onto his side. His eyes were barely open.

"Dean, is that you?" Sam whispered, hoarsely. Dean raced over to his brother.

"Sammy? Hey, hey, hey, take it easy." Dean said. "I'm gonna go and get a doctor, okay? I'll be right back."

Dean rushed over to door; to the blue call button on the wall. He pressed it multiple times, while yelling out for someone.

After a long few minutes, Doctor Collins came in.

"How is he?" she said.

"Well, he just woke up now. He seems kind of out of it." Dean said quickly. "I'm not really sure." Doctor Collins nodded and walked over to Sam.

"Hi there Sam, I'm Doctor Collins. You went through some tough stuff. Luckily, Dean got you here before anything too bad could have happened."

"What happened to me?" Sam asked, his voice barely above whisper.

"It seemed you were attacked by a wild animal, guessing by the deep gashes on your chest. We also did an overall examination of your health. I'm afraid you have pulmonary embolism." she said, her face solemn.

"Oh." Sam whispered. Sam's face was neutral; not a hint of surprise. Dean looked at Sam, his face shrouded with stress and worry. Doctor Collins paused; she could sense the awkwardness between the two brothers.

She continued, "We'll keep you guys here for a week or two, so you can recover and to monitor Sam's health." Dean nodded, saying a quick thank you. "I'll have a nurse to come in and check your vitals in 10 minutes, okay?" she smiled and walked out of the room.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said. "How are you feeling?"

Sam shrugged, replying with, "I guess I'm good. I've felt better, though."

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "You know, I'm sorry about what happened. If I had-" Sam cut him off.

"It's not your fault Dean, okay? Stop blaming yourself." Sam said.

"But-"

"No, I'll say it again. It wasn't your damn fault. It's fine." Sam insisted. Sam laid back down on the bed, moving his body back underneath the blanket. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some sleep."

Dean chuckled at him. He sighed and as he stood up, he whispered, "Bitch."

A voice said back to him, "Jerk."

 **TBC**

 **The next chapter will most likely be the last so….yeah…see you then 3**

 ** _~Catherine the_** ** _Superwholockian_**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything or the Supernatural characters.**

 **Hello! Wow, it's been forever. Kill me. I felt bad for leaving this story unresolved, so here I am. By the way, I changed my username. This is still Catherine! Here we go…**

Chapter Seven

A few weeks had passed, and Sam was slowly recovering. He could walk around by himself, although Dean would hardly let him. Dean was "fine", as he told the doctors, but they kept a close eye on his injuries as well. Doctor Collins grew closer to the boys, and she was almost sad to see them go.

"Hey, doc!" Dean called to her from Sammy's room as she walked by while talking to a nurse. Collins smiled, whispering to the nurse that she would talk to her later, and came over to Dean.

"Hi, Sam! How are you doing today?" Collins asked, grinning.

"I'm feeling pretty good actually. You've been great, but do you think I'll be able to leave anytime soon?" Sam was excited to leave. Dean was feeling sort of caged in the hospital as well, although everyone was kind and understanding to them.

" _Actually,_ I was going to tell you that you can leave very soon! Your injuries have healed pretty well, and the pulmonary embolism cleared up quickly. You're strong, Sam. Just make sure you don't ignore any symptoms, no matter how trivial they seem. Okay?"

"Great!" Dean exclaimed. "What if something like this happens again, though?"

"Dean-," Sam started.

"Well, lucky for you Sam, you've got big brother Dean to bring you in. Come in if any symptoms reappear." Collins said. She didn't doubt for a second that Dean would let any small symptom pass, even if it was just a coughing fit. "If you want, you can actually leave today. Don't feel rushed to, however! Should you not feel ready, you can stay for another week."

"I think I'm ready," Sam said. "Dean, you good with that?"

"Hell yes." Dean grinned. "I even got Baby out in the parking lot."

Collins smiled. Everyone in the hospital knew about Dean's deep connection with his precious Impala. They knew even more about his inseverable connection with his younger brother.

"Here, just sign these forms and you can leave. Would you like a wheelchair?" Collins asked.

"No, thanks," Sam said, grateful of how kind the doctor had been towards them during their stay.

"Stay safe, you two." Collins reached over, hugging the two brothers.

 **In the car….**

"Sam?" Dean called, one hand on the wheel of the Impala.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry," Dean said. Although many weeks had passed since Sam first collapsed, he still felt the crushing guilt of not taking care of his little brother.

"Dude, c'mon. I told you; it wasn't your fault." Sam said.

"No, really. Next time something like this happens, I want you slap me hard and tell me to listen. Don't slap too hard though- this face is precious." Dean said, grinning.

"Yeah, well, your nose does need some adjusting." Sam joked.

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed. Sam laughed and turned away, his mind drifting off to the thumping rhythms of _Back in Black_ by AC/DC.

Dean smiled, feeling like a huge weight was lifted off of him. Everything was back to normal now, and maybe even a little bit better.

"It'll be okay, Sammy."

THE END

 **Holy crap. The writer's block I've had for like 2 years is gone. So, it's done. Wow. Sorry- it's short but I felt that leaving the story like that was better. I hope you guys liked the ending! I'll probably be starting another story, most likely one about Angel!Sam cause that's what I'm obsessed with right now. If you're interested, keep a look out for that story. Thank you for still following this story throughout the years, even with my horrible updating! Love you guys!**

 _ **~The Angel Called Castiel**_


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